Class of 1998
by lydiamaartin
Summary: The Hogwarts class of 1998 was, sometimes, closer than they appeared to be. Seven moments between several students, not necessarily friends, but not exactly enemies either. - gen


**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned here. For the record, Wayne Hopkins is not actually in the books, but he's in the list of students in Harry's year that JKR drew up, which is where I got his name.**

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"Quidditch is so _boring_," Hermione Granger grumbles to herself, frustrated at how obsessed her two best friends were with the sport.

"No kidding," comes a new voice, interrupting her thoughts. Hermione looks up to see Daphne Greengrass leaning against the tree she has reached, a wry smile on her lips.

"I fail to see what is so entertaining about a suicidal sport," Daphne continues casually. "Especially Potter, you'd think he was tired of near-death experiences."

Hermione smiles, glad to have found someone who understood. "I know! But the way they go on, you'd think it was the best thing since sliced bread!"

Daphne returns the smile. "Finally someone who agrees," she says, and the two share a grin.

* * *

Neville hums to himself as he waters the plants in Greenhouse One. Professor Sprout has left on an errand, giving him a task to do, and it feels good to be helpful.

The door opens slowly. "Longbottom?" Ernie Macmillan's voice echoes oddly in the greenhouse.

"Yeah?" Neville stops watering to look up at the Hufflepuff. "Were you looking for Professor Sprout?"

"Er, no, actually," Ernie looks slightly uncomfortable. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" Neville asks, surprised. "What for?"

"I need some help in Herbology," Ernie explains, entering properly. He's holding a book about plants in his hands. "I figured, since you're so good at it and all, you could…maybe, um, tutor me?"

Neville stares at him for a moment and then smiles. "Of course I can. Come on in. What do you need help with?"

Ernie grins, walks over to him and opens the book to a marked page. "This, over here…"

Neville listens, smiling to himself. It really does feel good to be helpful.

* * *

"Heard you got dumped by Ginny too," Michael says with less nonchalance than he would have liked.

Dean looks up at him, eyebrows raised. "Yeah. What of it?"

Michael shrugs, sliding into the seat opposite him. "Nothing. Just…you know she ditched you for Potter, right?"

Dean laughs humorlessly. "'Course. Why wouldn't she? He's famous and handsome and rich. What can I give her that's better?"

"Good question." Michael sighs, propping his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms. "I suppose it's not really his fault."

"No," Dean agrees. "But it makes me feel better to blame him."

"Yeah." Michael meets his eyes and half-smiles. "Me too."

* * *

"You're Parvati Patil, right?"

Parvati stops and turns, braid swinging. "Yes," she answers, regarding the pale, blue-eyed boy in front of her. He's taller than she is, and he looks determined for some reason.

"You're Padma's sister, aren't you? I'm Anthony Goldstein, in her House," he tells her.

"Nice to meet you." Parvati's getting impatient. She doesn't have time for meaningless introductions, not when there's a class to get to.

"I just wanted to tell you," Anthony draws closer so that they're not overheard. "Your sister, Padma, she's miserable without you. She won't talk to any of us. I think you should go see her. Cheer her up."

Parvati stares at him, but he just flashes a smile and then is swept up in the crowd of students. His words echo in her mind.

"All right," she says to herself as she begins walking. "I will, then."

* * *

"Why do you do it?"

The question makes Pansy whirl around to face the curious Hufflepuff behind her. Wayne Hopkins stands there, hands in his pockets and a frown on his face.

"Do what?" she snaps, flicking her hair out of her eyes.

Wayne walks closer. "Torture people—students, children, classmates. Hex them because of something they can't control. Threaten them because of who they were born to. It's not right."

"What do you care?" Pansy demands, his questions unsettling her more than she's willing to show. "You're pureblood, you'll be fine as long as you don't start mouthing off to us."

"Those are my friends you want to kill, Pansy," Wayne says quietly. Now he's standing right in front of her. "Why do you do it?"

Pansy stares into his dark blue eyes and swallows. All her reasons seem inadequate when faced with the honesty she sees in his eyes. "I…don't know."

Wayne steps back. "It's _wrong_," he tells her softly. "You know it is."

One of the Carrows come around the corner and Wayne darts out of sight, fingering the gold coin in his pocket. Pansy stares after him, filled with an emotion she doesn't recognize and isn't sure she likes.

* * *

"You look pretty."

Lavender turns around, her Yule Ball dress swishing around her ankles, to see Blaise Zabini standing behind her, his tie loose, his hair mussed, and his eyes sparking with mischievousness.

"Thanks," she says politely, puzzled. "What are you doing out here?"

"I came to ask you that same question," Blaise tells her, walking forward so he's at her side. "Weren't you here with Finnigan?"

"I needed some fresh air, and he's talking to Dean," Lavender explains airily.

"Talking or snogging? The two of them seem awfully close," Blaise trails off, an infuriating grin on his face.

Lavender gapes for a minute, before smacking him. It's not hard enough to hurt, she does the same thing to Seamus and Dean often enough, and Blaise only laughs.

"Blue's a good color for you," he says, leaning forward to tug on one of her bright blond curls, gelled and styled to perfection. "You should wear it more often."

Lavender blinks as he walks away, whistling a cheery tune as he does so. The next day, she ties her hair with a blue ribbon, catches his eye in the hallway, and shares a smile.

* * *

"What on Earth were you thinking?" Padma sighs in frustration as she cast a healing charm on Seamus's broken arm. "You really ought to know better by now."

"You know why we're doing this," Seamus says, his voice quiet. He knows she knows, but he needs to say it anyway. "We're fighting because this is the only way we can help."

Padma nods, blinking back tears, as she moves on to his crushed fingers. "And everything we do could be one step closer to the end."

_Or one step further_. The words remain unspoken, but both of them understand.

There's silence for a while until Padma finishes, and Seamus sits up, muttering his thanks.

"You're welcome," Padma says honestly. "I just hope we're making a difference."

Seamus reaches out and squeezes her hand. "We are," he says firmly, though he's unsure who he's trying to convince. "Of course we are."

Padma smiles through unshed tears at him, and he hopes against hope that everything will turn out all right.

* * *

**Author's Notes: So, a bit of an odd plot bunny. I just like to imagine the odd friendships that pop up after seven years sharing classes together. I don't think the school is as divided between Slytherins and the 'good' Houses as JKR makes it seem in the books. This was my attempt at tackling the relationships between this intriguing class of students. If you guys liked it, please review! Reviews make my day!**


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